


An Overdue Meeting

by Tarlan



Series: One More Minute [3]
Category: E.R., The Rock (1996)
Genre: Character Development, Gen, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-27
Updated: 2006-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commander Anderson decides it is time to pay Chicago a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Overdue Meeting

Six months had passed since Alcatraz and Anderson knew he would have been in far greater shape if he had not succumbed to the temptation to be a hero. Rescuing the Olsen boys from the cave-in had set his healing back by months but he could not find it in himself to regret his actions.

His doctor had been pretty hard on him, very terse and direct in giving his opinion and, unfortunately for Anderson, Michael and Patrick had been present at the time. They heard every word and set themselves up as their brother's keeper.

Anderson sighed. He had spent the past fourteen weeks cooped up like a virtual prisoner in his own family home as his brothers proved that *they* could be every bit as stubborn as their 'baby' brother. They ensured he followed the doctor's advice to the letter, refusing even the smallest of deviations, but Anderson had to admit that their vigilance had paid off. The pain that had been his constant companion since the shooting had gradually subsided and he no longer needed the painkillers to get through each day. They had set up a daily regimen of exercise for him, based on the doctor and physiotherapist's suggestions, taking it in turns to ensure he did not overexert himself. It was as annoying as hell and caused more than a few arguments, but he could not deny that he felt stronger both mentally and physically for all their attention.

Anderson turned his thoughts away from his brothers and outwards to the view beyond the side window of the taxicab, watching the throng of people moving along the sidewalk like a slow moving river.

Last week the doctor had given him the all clear and Anderson had made sure his brothers were there to hear it. According to the doctor, as long as he exercised carefully, and treated his body with a lot more respect than before, there was no reason why he could not lead a normal life. He had taken advantage of the doctor's announcement to make one of his own; it was time for that well overdue visit to Chicago.

The cab pulled into a zone left free for dropping off and picking up passengers and, having paid the fare, Anderson stepped out onto the paving. He surveyed the entrance to the building, ignoring the flow of people going through the doors--in both directions.

 _I should have phoned first._

The cab pulled away before he had a chance to turn back and get inside so, taking a deep breath, Anderson stepped into the mass of humanity and pushed through into the busy emergency room.

There was a small queue at the reception desk and he joined it, waiting patiently as the people in front took turns to vent their fear and frustration, or describe their pain. Looking around the place seemed almost chaotic but Anderson soon recognized that it was organized chaos with hospital staff working in well choreographed movements. Eventually he reached the head of the queue.

"Hi. Can you tell me if Doctor Peter Benton is available?"

"Dr Benton is in surgery."

"How long...?"

Anderson paused as he was jostled aside by a couple of youths, one of whom was bleeding profusely from a head wound. A nurse stepped in and quickly hustled them off into a side area.

"How long until he is out of surgery?"

The receptionist looked back into the handsome face, staring deep into the beautiful clear, green eyes as she looked for but found nothing sinister in the intent expression. She glanced up at the clock on the wall then looked back.

"He shouldn't be that long now."

"Can I wait?"

"Sure. Take a seat. I'll let him know you're here."

"Thank you."

Anderson could feel the receptionist's eyes appraising him as he turned and walked over to the bank of seating especially laid out in a waiting area. He found a seat well out of the way which still afforded him a good view of the whole ER, and sat down. If there was one lesson he had learned during his years as a SEAL it was that there was a time for action and a time for sitting still and waiting. Both could save a man's life and both could affect the successful outcome of a mission.

****

An hour passed by slowly but Anderson found his own thoughts taking a back seat to the small dramas being played out before him. He watched as people arrived, their pain or fear filled faces pale with shock as they waited to be seen or to learn of the fate of loved ones. He watched mothers cuddling injured, crying children, friends supporting friends and families holding on to each other in grief or happiness depending on the news related to them by the doctors. Only one incident had tested his resolve. His eyes had narrowed, muscles tensing as violence erupted close by only to be quickly handled by the low-profile security staff, the protagonists separated and lashed verbally before the semblance of order was restored to the ER.

Through all the mayhem and scenes of personal tragedy he almost missed the man he sought, but something tugged his eyes upwards as a green-clad, coffee-skinned man rounded the corner by the reception desk. Anderson rose to his feet, suddenly unsure of himself as he gazed at the obviously fatigued and despondent figure. The lack of elation on the man's face made it obvious that the surgery had not gone as well as the doctor had hoped and Anderson found himself reluctant to intrude upon the man's grief. He sat back down, expecting the receptionist to have forgotten all about him despite her surreptitious glances in his direction from time to time. He decided it would be better to wait until the man had moved out of sight before leaving the ER so he did not draw attention to himself, but then the receptionist turned and pointed him out to Benton.

Anderson rose to his feet once more as a frown crossed the man's face, dark eyes narrowing as Benton stared across the room. Obviously, Benton was trying to remember where he had seen him before but Anderson was not surprised. He had expected his face to be just one among the many that the doctor had dealt with over the years in a never-ending flow of human misery. With a wry smile and a small sigh he made his way between the seats, knowing this meeting was more for his own benefit than Benton's. They met halfway.

"Dr Benton. I wouldn't be surprised if you don't remember me..."

"Sean."

Anderson's could not help feeling surprised that Benton remembered not only his face but also his chosen name. At the same time, a weary but pleased grin crossed the surgeon's drawn features.

"Took me a moment to place the face; wasn't so clean last time I saw it, but I knew the voice."

Anderson grinned, remembering the blood and camouflage grease that would have concealed his features as he lay in the poorly lit cell back on Alcatraz. He recalled spending those few hours flitting in and out of consciousness, recalled the disjointed conversation they had held during the more lucid moments and felt strangely soothed by the familiar voice that washed over him as Benton continued.

"You're looking good."

"Thanks to you."

Benton glanced around the busy ER and beckoned Anderson to follow him outside. They walked in silence and Anderson noticed the tired droop to the man's shoulders. He reached out tentatively, pulling Benton's attention.

"I can come back another time..."

"No. I could use a break after... There's a small coffee shop around the corner. Shouldn't be busy this time of day."

A few minutes later they were sliding into opposite seats in one of the many booths, watching the waitress pour out two large black coffees and set them down in front of them as if it was an everyday sight to see a man dressed in hospital greens. Anderson realized with a start that this was probably the case, the same way the coffee shops surrounding the naval bases were used to the sight of uniformed men.

"I wanted to come up and thank you earlier..."

"Takes a long time to recover from those kind of injuries. Longer still when you don't follow your doctor's advice."

Anderson raised both eyebrows in surprise, wondering how Benton could know of his temporary relapse.

"Yeah... I heard about the two kids you saved a few months back. Doctor Greaves is an old college associate, been keeping me informed on your progress."

"He never mentioned..."

"Told him not to."

"I see." Anderson took a swallow of the hot black liquid. "You always keep tabs on your ex-patients?"

"Not always. Just those that mean something to me."

Anderson found a small smile curling his lips, feeling unexpectedly warmed by this declaration.

"So what makes me so special? Kind of get the feeling I ruined what should have been a well-earned vacation."

Benton grinned. "Certainly made that vacation memorable."

A companionable silence descended where Anderson found himself being appraised by the man opposite with more than just a surgeon's eye.

"Heard you were medically retired from active service. Made any plans?"

"I'm still... What's the phrase?... Checking over my options."

"Have you considered Search and Rescue Coordinator? They could always use someone trained in... infiltration techniques... figuring a safe way for rescue teams to get into and out of the danger areas. Admit it's not as thrilling as going in yourself but..."

Anderson grinned, recognizing the reprimand hidden in those words.

"Yeah. In fact I've got a couple of irons in the fire. Both have offered me a position when I'm ready, but I plan to check them out before making a final decision. One's in Denver, working directly to the City; the other's on the eastern seaboard, between the Appalachians and the Atlantic."

"Gotta preference?"

"Nope... although Denver's closer to home."

****

The subject had gradually turned until Benton had found himself telling Anderson all about the highs and lows of the ER; the frightened, angry people who resorted to violence, the pressure, the joys of saving a life... and the self-loathing when you have done all you could and it had still not been enough.

He had never expected anyone other than another ER doctor to truly understand the pressures he worked under each and every day, and found himself surprised when it was obvious that Anderson *did* understand.

They talked for a long time before Benton's pager signaled a return to the real world, and Benton found himself quite amazed at how open he had felt with a man who should have been if not a polar opposite then most certainly a conflicting presence. After all, his whole career revolved around saving lives whereas Anderson's had included the requirement to take life when the necessity arose.

As he walked away, the burden on his shoulders feeling just a little lighter than it had earlier, he realized that they both carried these huge weights of responsibility, that they had both made themselves accountable for the people around them - strangers and colleagues alike.

They had parted with a promise to meet up again some day but Benton knew that might never happen. It didn't matter though, for he knew he would continue to keep tabs on the soldier who had survived against all the odds... and had a feeling Anderson would be doing the same for him.

****

Sean Anderson flagged down a cab and gave his hotel address. As he sat in the back contemplating this strange meeting he felt a sense of accomplishment. Seeing Peter Benton had given him a sense of closure on his old life, cutting the final tie that bound him to the horror of a dilapidated shower room in an old prison.

As he glanced out the side window of the cab with a smile lighting up his eyes, his thoughts no longer dwelt on the past, instead they stretched out to the future.

THE END


End file.
